


and like a thunderbolt he falls

by blackkat



Series: Jon Antilles prompts [17]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Rescue, Self-Sacrifice, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: A shadow falls over the mountaintop just as the first droid drops down onto the rocks above Fives.
Relationships: CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 & Katooni, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555/Jon Antilles, Jon Antilles & Katooni
Series: Jon Antilles prompts [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941646
Comments: 28
Kudos: 533





	and like a thunderbolt he falls

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Wing Fic AU, where the Jedi are born with wings only other Force sensitives can see. Until they get their lightsaber crystals, and then their wings become usable. Jedi shielding clones with their wings, padawans snuggling in each other's wings, flying in the sky together. Fay with massive owl wings, snatching Jango up from the ground and cackling as he screams
> 
> (That Jango part is definitely happening.)

“No way out,” Rex says grimly, sliding back down into the narrow bowl of rocks they managed to find for shelter. He looks exhausted, strung-out, and Fives grimaces a little, knocks their pauldrons together.

“You could probably make it down the cliff,” he says, makes it light and easy even though the words want to stick in his throat. “The commando droids haven’t figured out attached jetpacks yet.”

“Can't carry your heavy carcass down with just one set of rappelling gear,” Rex says, even though he _has_ to know their odds, has to know that he’ll survive if he leaves now. Fives has a broken leg, a fractured arm; he’s good for holding off the droids while Rex makes his escape and not much else.

“Yeah,” Fives says, and thinks of Echo in the Citadel. One Domino left, he thinks ruefully, and breathes in, breathes out. Says, as firmly as he can, “Captain—”

“Close your mouth, Fives,” Rex tells him, and it’s softer than it has any right to be. He raps his knuckles against the stripes of Fives's _kama_ , and says, “’Least Jesse and Hardcase got away with the shinies.”

That’s true. The whole squad of clones in shiny white armor is out of the line of fire, since the droids followed Fives and Rex over the crest of the mountain, and Fives doesn’t regret it. Surviving one more battle isn't a lot for a clone, given the death toll of the war, but—it’s enough, Fives knows. For him, it’s enough.

Above them, there's the sound of metal against rock, ringing, carrying. Multiple limbs, multiple clankers, commando droids scaling the sheer rock like spiders, and Fives grabs for his blaster, brings it up as Rex shoves to his feet, pistols drawn. He puts himself between Fives and the onslaught, and Fives struggles up onto his good knee, trying to aim, heart in his throat and vision swimming as he takes in the ranks.

There are too many, and despair surges, choking and thick, but—determination rises with it, crystalizes. Fives sucks in a breath, and with one last surge of strength he drops his rifle, grabs for the rappelling gear attached to Rex's belt, drags the line free and slams the anchor down into the rock. Rex wrenches back, a cry of alarm breaking free, but he’s already too late. Fives gives the line one hard tug to make sure it will hold and then _shoves_ , and with a horrified shout Rex goes spilling over the edge of the cliff, his cry stolen by the wind.

He’ll be fine. The line’s long enough to get him to the ground, and Fives can hold the clankers off long enough for him to reach the base of the mountain.

Gritting his teeth, Fives wrenches a thermal detonator free of his bandolier, flings it up the slope in one hard movement, and ducks, grabbing for his blaster again. Only one good arm, but he jerks it up, braces it against his shoulder and aims just as the grenade blows—

A shadow falls over the mountaintop just as the first droid drops down onto the rocks above Fives.

Fives's heart leaps, and he jerks, head coming up and pulse spiking. Wide wings above him, two sets, and there are no avian predators on this planet anywhere _near_ large enough, which means—

A glowing green blade ignites, blazing like a star, with a blue blade half a moment behind it. Fives jerks back, trying to give them room without falling over the edge of the cliff, and there's a cry, a thud. A body drops right in front of him, and a pair of blue-violet wings sweep out to cover him. Small wings, Fives realizes with a jolt, and he scrambles up, but the padawan grabs him, pushes him back against the rocks and throws herself over him, and Fives gets one half-second glimpse of her Master, of a flare of massive iridescent black-and-green wings, a raised hand, and then the earth shakes. The sparse greenery of the mountaintop comes alive, and like a hawk arrowing down, the Jedi folds his wings and dives, straight for the remaining commando droids. Then a wash of green buries Fives and the padawan, and he can't see anything.

“Sorry,” the commander says quickly. “Sorry, hang on, I just—there!”

The tree shifts, suddenly less oppressive. The wings shift too, long and sleek and iridescent in the low light, and the padawan pulls herself up just enough that Fives isn't buried in feathers anymore. She’s Tholothian, Fives realizes, her tendrils caught back in a brown headdress, and—she’s younger than Commander Tano, probably by at least a few years. Uncertain, clearly, as she looks him over, and her wings are still half-spread to keep the greenery around them from pressing in too tightly.

“Sorry,” she says again, pushing away enough that she’s sitting on Fives's boot but not on top of him anymore. “Are you all right? You're in pain, but I can't tell where—”

“I’m all right, Commander,” Fives says, and relief is a hot thing in the middle of his chest. “I—my captain, I pushed him over the side when he wouldn’t leave—”

The girl grins. “I think Master Fay caught him,” she says. “The one who was cursing all the way down, right?”

Fives winces, because now that it looks like he’s going to make it out of this alive, pushing Rex off a cliff is looking a lot more like something he’s going to be scrubbing latrines for and less like a noble gesture. He’ll probably be lucky if Rex doesn’t try to drown him in a toilet, actually. “That’s him. Willing to tell him I died heroically up here?”

The padawan laughs, then glances up half a second before the tree covering them shifts. It pulls back, moving on its own in a way Fives hadn’t thought was possible outside of a Neti, and a low voice asks, “Katooni?”

“He’s hurt, Master,” Katooni says immediately, rising to her feet, and a moment later the Jedi with the green and black wings drops through the gap, kneeling in front of Fives. Scarred hands pull his hood back, and he nods to Katooni.

“Watch the approach?” he asks. “I think I caught all of the droids, but in case one was hiding.”

“Yes, Master,” Katooni says determinedly, hand tightening around her lightsaber, and she leaps up onto the rocks above them, wings vanishing as they close. Her Master’s don’t vanish, though; he holds them half-spread and ready, like he’s expecting to need them in an instant even as he reaches for Fives.

“My name is Jon Antilles,” he says, soft, and his hands are gentle as he picks up Fives's bad arm, carefully straightening it. “I can heal you enough to get you down the mountain, but it will hurt.”

Fives gives him a crooked smile, even though it’s probably invisible through his helmet. “Sir, I didn’t think I was even going to _make_ _it_ off this mountain. I’ll take it.”

The man’s mouth tightens faintly, like hearing that upsets him, and he leans forward. Pale eyes narrow for an instant, and then pain splinters up Fives's arm. He wrenches in a breath, jerking, but it’s gone an instant later, and when he curls his fingers they actually respond.

“Kriff,” he says, startled. “That’s amazing, sir.”

There's a scuff, and a moment later Katooni sides back down next to them. “Master Ven’nari is on lookout, Master,” she says, and then to Fives, “Master Antilles isn't a Healer, but he’s the best at battlefield healing except for my Grandmaster.”

“Katooni,” Jon protests, and there's a trace of a flush to his cheeks as he slides back, pressing his fingers to the rough splint Rex rigged up from two branches and Fives's rappel line.

“I would believe it,” Fives says, and reaches up to pull his helmet off, giving Katooni a smile that’s full of relief. “You have amazing timing, sirs.”

“We were looking for you,” Jon says, apparently relieved to change the subject. Another spear of pain makes Fives hiss, but then it fades away as well, and Jon quickly starts unwrapping the splint.

With a nod, Katooni crouches down on his other side, pulling at the second knot. “Jesse and his squad got back and said you were probably in trouble,” she says. “Since you're supposed to be coming with us anyway, Master Antilles and I came to find you.”

Fives blinks, looking between them. “Coming with you?” he asks, surprised.

Jon looks up, and Fives finally gets a good look at him. Scarred, suntanned, almost completely swallowed by his voluminous cloak and huge wings, but—there’s a steadiness in his eyes that makes something knotted in Fives's chest ease, just a little.

“Yes,” he says, and reaches out. Katooni catches his hand, scrambling up, and a moment later she throws herself against his side, right underneath his dark wings, digging into his belt pouch. “Katooni and I were recently assigned a special operations squad, and you were recommended to lead it.”

“We don’t have a commander,” Katooni confirms, and makes a sound of victory. She comes up with something deep green and violet, holding it out to Fives, and her smile is a little shy. “I designed it. If you want! But even if you just want to carry it with you, if you’re going to be our commander now, I wanted you to have it.”

Entirely stunned, Fives reaches out on autopilot. It’s a premade patch, like a lot of _vode_ stick to their armor, in the shape of the Order’s seal. But the wings are…different. Violet within dark green, like Jon and Katooni’s, and spread instead of contained within a circle. It’s pretty. It’s something Fives could see putting on his armor, and—

“You’re promoting me?” he asks, still stuck on that point. ARC was as far as his plans went, when it comes to the war. He’d thought—he’d thought that he was just going to stay an ARC, maybe push Jesse to take the extra training so he could be half of a pair again, even if it wasn’t with Echo. But—

“If you want,” Jon says, and he meets Fives's eyes. “This isn't mandatory. But…we thought we would offer. What you did for your captain…” He breaks off, smiles, and there’s a scar that edges across his lip, pulls it into something crooked even though Fives can see the warmth in his eyes. “That was brave.”

Fives's throat feels thick, and he swallows hard, carefully gripping the patch. He’s going to have to figure out where to put it. “I was feeling a lot braver when I didn’t have to face the captain after pushing him off a cliff,” he says, not nearly as much of a joke as he wishes it was. “I—of course I’ll lead your squad, General. _Thank you_.”

Jon inclines his head, rising to his feet, and his wings catch the light, the ripples of deep green that run across them brilliantly clear for a moment. They're beautiful, and Fives can't quite look away.

“Commander Fives,” Katooni says brightly, and it sounds _weird_. She laughs when Fives pulls a face, and—it’s been a long time since Fives heard that kind of laughter, open and easy. Commander Tano kind of stopped, after a while.

He’ll just have to make sure Katooni doesn’t have a reason to stop, _ever_.

With a small smile that’s entirely amused, Jon offers Fives his hands, and Fives takes them, lets Jon pull him to his feet. There's no pain when he puts weight on his leg, and he lets out a breath of relief, then picks up his helmet and gives Jon a salute.

“Thanks for the save, sirs,” he says, and means it.

“It was our pleasure,” Jon says, and the plural is obvious. He’s been using it this whole time, and—Fives pays attention to that kind of thing. There's no shutting Katooni out, even slightly. It’s like she’s part of Jon, readily accepted, and it makes Fives want to smile. Hearing it is…good.

Katooni is his padawan, and it’s clear he loves her. Openly, obviously, and it makes something inside Fives unknot to see it.

“Ready to face your captain?” Jon asks, and rests a hand on Katooni’s shoulder as she leans into him. His wings fold around her automatically, like he doesn’t even have to think about it to do it, and the soft gleam of the green feathers is bright in the sun.

Fives grimaces, pulling his helmet back on. “Technically I think I outrank him now?” he tries, even though it’s probably not true. Actually, it’s _definitely_ not true, no matter how General Skywalker keeps giving Rex more authority without actually ever promoting him.

Jon snorts, then glances up the mountain, to where a figure is crouched, wings open. The Bothan woman perched on the rocks gives a wave back, her fire-colored wings flaring for half an instant before she launches herself up with impossible speed. Fives watches her go, but a moment later a shift pulls his eyes back down. Katooni is at the edge of the cliff, leaning over in a move that catapults Fives's heart into his throat even though he _knows_ she’s a Jedi. Before he can have a complete heart attack, though, she shakes herself, and violet wings spread again.

It doesn’t make watching her jump off the side of the mountain any easier, but—Fives supposes he’ll get used to it.

There's a soft sound of amusement, and Jon lets his own wings open, brushing the stone on both sides of them. “I can carry you,” he offers, and it’s quiet, but he’s still watching Fives. Not demanding, not just grabbing and jumping over the edge the way General Skywalker does with Rex. Just waiting, and Fives nods and steps forward, then hesitates.

“How do you want me, sir?” he jokes.

Jon tips his head, then leans in. “Arms around my neck. Hold on tight,” he says, and Fives gamely goes for it. There’s an arm behind his back, another under his knees, and then with a surge of muscle and sweeping wings Jon launches himself forward, hauling Fives up for half an instant before they're over the edge and—

Not falling. _Flying_.

Fives whoops before he can help it, feels the vibration of Jon's soft laughter. “I was going to ask if you were all right,” he says, “but I see I don’t have to.”

Fives grins, breathless with the drop, with the _catch_. The planet is spread out below them, scarlet and green fields, the curve of the river, the ant-small lines of the 501st’s camp in the distance. “I'm kriffing _fantastic_ , sir, but thanks.”

Jon snorts, then tips forward, and Fives loses his breath as they dive, passing Katooni as she makes a sound of outrage. Below them, there's another Jedi, her wings the pure white of a swan’s, and she has a shape dangling below her, clutching her hands. A _familiar_ shape, and Fives winces, but still waves as they pass.

“Captain!” he calls, and Rex doesn’t have time to say anything before they’re away and out of earshot, but—

He’s definitely shaking his fist at Fives, and—well.

At least getting promoted is probably a good way to get out of punishment duty, Fives thinks, and wraps his arms around Jon's neck again as they fall earthward.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Jon's Padawan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638699) by [cac0daemonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cac0daemonia/pseuds/cac0daemonia)




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